


I Don't Kiss and Tell

by soupypictures



Category: Diving RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupypictures/pseuds/soupypictures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wants that ass. Nathan gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Filled for a prompt at XXX Ficathon: Can we have like Phelps or Adrian boning the shit out of Tom Daley, lots of size kink involved?

He’s pretty sure everyone on Earth (with the internet or television, so maybe not, like, the Congo) has seen Tom Daley’s ass. And probably the majority of those people want it. Nathan is definitely in the middle part of that venn diagram, the one labeled, “has seen Tom Daley’s ass; wants it.” And Nathan, like just about every other person in the Olympic Village, knows what to do when he wants something.  
  
Set a goal. Make an action plan. Get the fuck after it.  
  
So Nathan gets himself into the relatively cushy UK House on the arm of Simon Burnett it’s not long before he spots the diver off by himself almost begging to be cornered. So Nathan does, and says to him, “Look, I know how speedos work and I’m pretty sure you’re doing that on purpose.” Because he does know how speedos work, there are  _drawstrings_  and you use them so that your briefs don’t end up around your knees and then your ankles and then floating to the bottom of the pool after you dive in the water.  
  
Tom, however, doesn’t exactly give the reaction Nathan’s looking for. “Who the fuck are you?”  
  
Nathan was sure that his medal haul would be enough to make everyone else anxious to at least meet him, if not take him to bed. “Uh, Nathan Adrian. I won the one hundred freestyle.” And then, because he feels like he needs to give back what Tom shoved at him, maybe stand his ground, “Who the fuck are you?”  
  
Tom’s look is one of “get this fucking crazy dude out of my way, where’s my bodyguard?” and Nathan instantly feels bad.  
  
“No, I'm sorry. You’re Tom Daley.”  
  
Tom smirks. “That’s right.”  
  
Nathan kind of wonders why Tom hasn’t fled already, then he realizes that he really does have Tom cornered. “I’m sorry, I just ... I really want to —”  
  
“Alright, let’s go.” And Tom has Nathan’s hand in his and he’s being led down the hallway.  
  
This is too easy. “Wait, what?”  
  
“I hope you’re not too sloshed, Nathan Adrian.”  
  
“What? I’m not — but I’m not drunk at all.”  
  
Tom laughs, looks up at him over his shoulder. “Sure.”  
  
“No, I haven’t had a single drink.” Because that’s true.  
  
“Then why — you know what, nevermind.” Tom tugs him down the hallway at a quicker pace.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“My room.”  
  
“What are we going to do?”  
  
This stops Tom abruptly. He drops Nathan’s hand and turns around fully. “Am I misreading this situation?”  
  
“You might be. I’m really not sure what’s going on.” Because while Nathan knows what he’s set out to do and never once in his life has he set out to do something and then  _not_ , nothing he’s set out to do has ever been this  _easy_.  
  
Tom moves in close and wraps a hand in Nathan’s (v-neck, of course) shirt to pull him down to his level. It’s a long way. “I’m taking you to my room where you’re going to fuck me into the mattress. Unless you were going to tell me that you just wanted to compliment me on my diving, in which case i’ll find some other huge american swimmer to give me what I need. Do you think that Michael Phelps fellow would be down?”  
  
Nathan shakes his head vigorously and feels all his blood rushing south.  
  
(Except it’s really not all his blood, because then he would be dead, and it’s not technically south, either, more like just  _down_  but then Tom is pulling on his hand again.)  
  
The next thing he knows they’re in Tom’s room and Tom is pulling off his shirt. Nathan knows that he has a nice body himself, but there is something about Tom’s that almost puts him to shame. He’s not sure what it is. He’s not sure he  _cares_ what it is.  
  
“The thing is,” Tom is saying, shoving his warmups down his legs, “I doubt you’ve ever dove off a ten meter platform. You go off those silly little starting blocks that are what, a half-meter off the surface of the water? And at an angle, at that. You know nothing about speedos and height. Take off your clothes, please.”  
  
Nathan complies, happily.

\---

The beds in the village are pretty small, but since they were the same size in Vichy he’s pretty used to it for sleeping purposes. But for screwing purposes? Much more difficult than he’d imagined.  
  
“Would you get  _on_  with it,” Tom hisses as Nathan once again reorganizes their limbs. “Any more delay and I’ll just ride you, but that’s not really what I’m after here.”  
  
Nathan’s brain shorts out just a little, because _Tom riding him_  is a mental picture he doesn’t think he’ll ever get out of his head, and those words combined with Tom Daley in the flesh and naked beneath him serve to get him the rest of the way there. As much as it might be hot, though,  _that is not what Tom wants_ , Nathan reminds himself. It’s not his first choice, but their best option is Tom on all fours with his ass in the air, so he nudges Tom into that position and bites his lip.  
  
“So what are you after, then?” He somehow manages to say, slicking his fingers with the lube Tom has procured from ... somewhere. He’s glad one of them was prepared to seal this deal tonight.  
  
“You’re a big boy, I think you can figure it out.”  
  
And ....  _oh_. Yep, he’s definitely blushing now. He presses a finger in and bites his lip harder at Tom’s answering groan.  
  
(Not that this is the first time someone’s wanted him because he’s so much bigger, but he didn’t think he’d find someone like Tom at the Olympics, of all places. Although now that he’s thinking about it, the Olympics seem like the perfect place to run into someone like Tom.)  
  
“And anyway — ah, another please — I told you in the hallway.”  
  
Nathan adds another finger. “What was that again? I was a little — distracted.”  
  
“ _Fuck me into the mattress_ , I thought you graduated from Berkeley, jesus.”  
  
Nathan stops what he’s doing (stretching Tom enough to make sure not to hurt him, but not enough that it won’t be a tight fit because Tom seems like he wants the stretch) and says, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”  
  
Tom looks over his shoulder at Nathan and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Of course I knew who you were, I've only been stalking you for a week.”  
  
“But. Why would you stalk me?”  
  
Tom groans, pressing his ass back onto Nathan’s fingers. “I thought _Lochte_  was the daft one. Because I want you to fuck me into the mattress. So could you, please? I’m ready.”  
  
“Just a little —”  
  
“No, Nate. I’m ready.” Tom has one of the IOC-provided condoms in his hand and he’s tearing it open with his teeth and then passing it to Nathan over his shoulder, head hanging down.  
  
And something comes over Nathan, pulled out of him by the picture of Tom’s muscled back, his ass high and tight, hole loosened up by Nathan’s fingers. Nathan is turned the fuck  _on_ , now.  
  
“You’re going to need to hold onto the headboard, Tom,” Nathan says, voice low and a little breathless.   
  
This makes Tom groan and he spreads his knees a little more and reaches forward to clutch the short headboard. “Oh fuck me, please, Nate. I need it, I’ve been waiting, please —” and as Nathan presses in, unrelenting pressure and almost too much for Tom to take, “Oh god,” he breathes, Nathan’s balls nudging up against his ass. “Fuck, you really are a big boy.”  
  
Nathan tilts his head back and honestly thinks of the Queen to keep from coming from the hot clutch of Tom’s ass around his cock. He pulls out a little and then eases back in. “Is this what you wanted?”   
  
And Tom is shaking his head. “No, harder. Come on.”  
  
That is a command Nathan knows well. Every practice is  _harder, harder_  and hips aren’t meant just for dolphin kicks.

\---

He sets a punishing pace, one that has Tom’s arms locked and the muscles of his upper back contracted. And ...  
  
Tom is loud.  
  
Tom is loud even under “in a house with neighbors separated by two brick walls and a tract of land” standards. So really, maybe there ought to be an intensifying word for Tom’s volume in a  _dorm room_  at the Olympics.  
  
Nathan’s gonna go with  _exceedingly_. Between the sounds coming from Tom’s mouth and the sounds resulting from Nathan’s hips slapping against Tom’s ass, they are making quite the racket.  
  
“Fuck, Tom, I'm not going to last if you keep talking —”  
  
“Harder, Nate, give it to me. I need this, you have no idea —” Tom’s voice trails off into a moan and one hand comes off the headboard to wrap around his own cock.  
  
_This kid is going to be the death of me_  is what Nathan thinks as he does go harder, Tom slick and loose from the pounding he’s been getting ( _that Nathan’s been giving him_ ) and his voice, that accent, how the nickname only his family calls him sounds falling from his lips onto the sheets.   
  
Close to his completion, Nathan figures there’s one way to push Tom over the edge. Give as good as he gets — “Look at you, all spread out for me. Do you like how I cover you up? Do you like my hands, Tom? How about my hand on your cock?” He suits action to word and covers Tom’s hand with his own. It only takes two passes over Tom’s cock before he’s coming on the sheets and clutching around Nathan and Nathan follows him four stuttering thrusts later.

\---

Nathan is breathing hard, taking care of the condom and trying not to crush Tom under him (although at this point, he’s not sure Tom wouldn’t like that). “I hope your teammates were out. You were, uh, kind of loud there.”  
  
Tom rolls over under Nathan and stretches his limbs, completely ignoring the wet spot. “They’re used to it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You think you’re my first shag of the Olympics?”  
  
Nathan raises an eyebrow at the young diver. “You’re serious?”  
  
“What, you haven’t preyed on any other twinks?”  
  
“You’re not — I’m not —”  
  
Tom laughs at Nathan’s sputtering and confusion, leaning up to peck him on the mouth. “Have yourself some fun, Berkeley boy. Show another boy a good time tomorrow.” He smacks Nathan’s ass and shoves at him. “Now get out of here before you fall asleep. It’s much more difficult to leave sight unseen in the morning.”  
  
Nathan quirks a smile and returns the chaste kiss, then slides off the bed (and Tom) to pull on his clothes.  
  
“But tell me the truth, Nate. do you think Phelps would be down? I don’t think you gave me an honest answer before.”  
  
He rolls his eyes as he pulls his Team USA shirt over his head. “Probably not. He’s involved with someone already. They’re pretty exclusive as far as I can tell.”  
  
“It’s that Lochte guy?”  
  
“That’s not my story to tell.” He gets serious. “Speaking of ...” He motions between the two of them, Nathan now fully dressed but Tom still naked, sated, and sprawled on his bed.  
  
“Don’t worry, Nate. I never kiss and tell.”


End file.
